


Under The Old Red Hoodie

by Amalia_P



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Bullying, Drama, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Friendship/Love, German National Team, Homophobia, M/M, Multi, Müllendowski, Violence, die mannschaft - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-01 04:16:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8607178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amalia_P/pseuds/Amalia_P
Summary: There was something strange about him, but Robert couldn't name it.
Maybe it was the old red hoodie, maybe it was his thinness or his soft movements.
Or maybe it was his eyes, the most beautiful eyes Robert had ever seen.





	1. Capitulo 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone, this work is my firts Müllendowski´s story, so i´m nervus and exited.  
> I have to say, that English is not my native language, that's why I'm going to publish the original story in Spanish.  
> I am not an expert in English, so I used my knowledge and the goolge translator, so I apologize in advance for some mistake. If you find one, I beg you to tell me what it is, so I can make the necessary correction.  
> This story is not yet finished, although I have already written several chapters and is totally planned in my mind.  
> In addition, this work has graphic scenes of violence, and I have tried to make it realistic with respect to certain situations and feelings that will be traversing the characters.  
> I want to dedicate this story to all the writers of Müllendoski. There are not many works on this couple, but they write incredible stories, so, please receive this story as a thank you.
> 
> This chapter is not very long, and is more like a prologue, the next will be much longer, so enjoy!
> 
> Do not forget to leave your comments and tell me what you think! :)

Thomas didn’t want to wake up. He didn’t want to open his eyes and face a new day, a new school year. He didn’t want to face the life. He wanted to stay there wrapped in his warm sheets, where silence could comfort his numb body.

The painful pull on his arm forces him to open his eyes. The old wall greets him like every day. Memories fill his mind, and they hurt. They hurt even more than the blows on their body, they hurt so much that they no longer feel the arm.

His eyes become watery, and Thomas bites his lower lip hard, because he knows he can’t cry, because once he starts, he can’t stop, and because no one will listen.

But a rebel tear slides down his cheek to the pillow, and Thomas immediately sits down on the bed and rubs his eyes with the firm intention of not letting one more tear fall.

The force of his movement causes painful stitches in his ribs and has to take in air to calm down. Taking care of no more pain, he pulls his shirt up to his chest and grimaces at the huge bruise on his left side.

He has no more pain relieving cream and he does not have the money to buy one, so he will have to put up with the pain and be as careful as possible.

After a quick look in the mirror, he concludes that he is not so bad and that he was lucky not to have received a blow to the face.

It's not like someone cares, anyway, but he prefers to attend their first day of classes without any visible mark.

He takes a short shower, changes the bandages on his arm and puts on some worn-out jeans, a T-shirt, the only clean shoes he has, and the same red hoodie he has worn to school since last year. It is large, but comfortable, and prevents people from seeing more skin than their fingers.

The house is in complete silence, and Thomas knows that his father is not there, because he heard him leave at midnight, but he is grateful. He is willing to accept all the peace he can get.

He does not stop to go through some food in the kitchen, not sure that his stomach can keep down any attempt at breakfast.

 

-

Thomas does not take the bus, nor does the subway. The school is about an hour away from home, but he does not have money for transport, he only has enough for lunch and although he is not usually hungry, he knows he has to put some meat on his bones, or next time It will not be a bruise, but a broken rib.

Walking is difficult for him without the relief he provides for the pain cream, but he manages to walk more slowly. He always manages to be alone.

 

-

He arrives at school later than usual and immediately lightens the weight of his bag by putting his books in his locker. Some students give him a mocking smile, but Thomas goes on his way to his classroom without looking up at any of them.

Just when he thinks that having successfully arrived at his class without being noticed by some unwanted person, he stops abruptly in front of the door because Mario Gomez is there. In his class.

Thomas is aware that they are in the same grade and that having a class together is a possibility. It's just that it had never happened before.

In all of his high school years they have never had a single class together, and now, when Thomas thinks he only has a year to get rid of, the universe has decided to hate him even more.

For a second hope is allowed to believe that perhaps Mario Gomez is just there to say hello to someone, he even wants to believe that maybe it is a new way of torturing him. Waiting for you in your morning class.

But in his mind he knows that Mario Gomez would not waste his valuable morning time on someone like him.

In fact, his suspicions are confirmed when Schweinsteiger and Boateng sit behind Mario Gómez.

He feels that his knees are trembling and he is about to vomit in the middle of the hall, when Mario Gómez seems to feel his gaze and turns around.

Their gazes connect, and when Mario Gomez smiles macabre, Thomas runs away.

 

-

He reaches the administrative wing of the school with the bitter taste of desperation in his throat. He needs to change his schedule, he needs to get out of that class right away. He needs to stay away from Mario Gómez.

He stops at the door of the Academic Records office thinking of some credible excuse to change class when he hears Mrs. Higgs calling him.

"Thomas? Something happens?"

Thomas plays nervously with the edges of his jeans and takes courage to lift his face.

There's someone else in the office, someone Thomas don’t remember seeing earlier in school.

The boy is tall, with much more muscle than Thomas himself, black ebony hair, and sky blue eyes. Those eyes that seem able to dig deep in his soul and open his heart.

Thomas shrugs, because the boy's gaze is too deep, as deep and frightening as the gaze of Mario Gomez, and unexpectedly warm and comforting at the same time.

Thomas hesitated before whispering, immediately hating himself for hearing so weak.

As expected, Mrs. Higgs does not believe his poor excuse of wanting to be in Mr. Heynckes's class and denies his request.

Thomas watches his vans again, nervously, and nods meekly.

Only when he is back in class does he realize that he has forgotten the anguish of being in the same class as Mario Gomez.

 

-

Anguish, of course, comes back.

Thomas needs to arm himself for several minutes before opening the classroom door.

Almost twenty pairs of eyes turn to see him and Thomas flushes because he is never the center of attention. His heart beats hard and he avoids focusing on Mario Gomez, murmurs an apology to Mr. Van Gaal and sits on the only free table next to the door.

And it's not a good place, because Mario Gomez is only three seats behind him.

 

-

The hairs on the back of Thomas's neck rise.

He can feel Mario Gomez's gaze fixed on his head like a laser beam. Although he is in the lead, Thomas has not heard anything from the class and much less has taken notes. His whole body is in a position of alertness, and that is why when the hour-changing bell rings, he is ready to flee, but before he can stand, a hand as heavy as lead falls on his shoulder.

"Müller"

Mario Gomez don’t say anything more, but his raspy voice is enough for Thomas to tremble with shivers.

He hears Boateng stifle his laughter behind them, and his breath is cut off as Mario Gomez's breath hits his ear.

"I missed you"

Boateng burst out laughing and Thomas closes his eyes, trying not to have a panic attack. He has not had one in months, and would be damned if he has one in front of them all.

The fingers of Mario Gómez wax more strongly in his shoulder, before giving the last lunge.

"I hope to see you later"

 

-

Thomas can’t remember exactly when it all began, when the gentle smiles of Mario Gomez became twisted faces without any warmth.

He can remember the first time they spoke, in ninth grade. Thomas had no friends, he never had any. Mario Gómez had arrived from Spain and had no friends either.

They crossed the library, both took the same book at the same time, a book about football. Thomas immediately gave up the book, but Mario Gomez gave him the book with a gentle smile, and asked if he liked football.

Thomas loved football.

Soon, his meetings in the library were made frequent and Thomas was happy, naive, he believed that Mario Gómez was his friend.

They talked about football, they talked about everything and nothing. Their different schedules prevented them from spending more time together or being in the hallways, so they had lunch together in the library and Thomas would accompany Mario Gomez to the bus stop at the time of departure. The Spaniard even came to invite him to his house when his parents were away, to watch movies or some football game. Thomas could not forget the countless times that Mario Gomez would put an arm around his shoulders and play with his curly hair.

But Mario Gómez was not a loser like Thomas Müller.

Mario Gómez passed the tests for the soccer team, something unusual to be a ninth grade student. His popularity grew like foam and was accepted by the group of friends of the then star of the equipment, Michael Ballack.

From a few, he stopped going to the library. He always apologized and Thomas pretended he didn’t care. Until he stopped going completely and Thomas was alone again.

 

 

-

Thomas entered the cafeteria trying to be invisible. He could not take risks.

He gave a quick glance at the players' table and exhaled the air it contained when seeing that neither Mario Gomez nor his group were there.

Determined to take advantage of those minutes of freedom, he approached the bar and ordered a cheese sandwich and pineapple juice in box.

It was not much, but Thomas's stomach did not need more and there was not any more money in his pockets to change the cheese sandwich, the cheaper, for a chicken sandwich.

He slid between the tables and left the cafeteria.

When he sat down, in the same chair of the library where he sat three years ago without crossing himself to any unwanted person, he felt victorious.

Unfortunately, the feeling would not last for long.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Thank you very much for your comments and kudos. I am very happy to know that you liked it.  
> In this chapter we are going to see one of the important points of the story here, but there are also small clues as to what will happen next. Maybe you can find out what they are and tell me their own theories;)
> 
> Once again I apologize for some mistake with English and please let me know what it is.  
> Enjoy!

Robert adjusted the strap of his bag before putting it on his shoulder and looking at his new school, Munich's Public High School. It had been very sad to say goodbye to his lifelong friends, but Robert had agreed with his mother that it was necessary to start over, and Milena needed a place to grow up happy, without the memories full of nostalgia for her father.

The last year had been very hard for Robert's family. His father had been diagnosed with cardiac angiosarcoma, or heart cancer. His father had fought the aggressive illness with all his mind and soul, but after surgery and months of chemotherapy, his heart could not give more and died of a heart attack.

Robert tried to be strong, for his mother and his sister, because he had promised his father that he would take care of them, but at night, when the dream seemed to shy away from him, and the memories of his father teaching him to play football were sneaking into his thoughts, he had to sink his face into the pillow and drown his own sobs.

His mother did not take long to find work outside Warsaw, and in less than a month they had already moved. Robert was grateful to have chosen German as an elective language in his old school or to move to Munich would have been a real problem. Her mother's salary was not much, and it would not have been possible to pay a private school for him and Milena.

Munich's public high school was giant, much larger than his old school. The main building was dark red and from his location, a few steps from the entrance gates, Robert could distinguish the football stadium.

Wishing in his mind, having a good last year at school, Robert crossed the gate.

-

Robert walked into the Academic Coordination office with some concern. He had to ask for his textbooks, his schedule and his locker number, but the office was empty. He turned around, ready to ask one of the secretaries he'd seen in the administrative office when an old woman with thick-rimmed glasses entered the room.

"Oh! Good morning boy, excuse the delay, the subway was overflowing today so I had to take the bus" Said the woman with a gentle smile as she placed some papers on her desk "I have not seen you before, are you one of the new students? "

"Yes, good morning, I'm Robert Lewandowski" Robert replied.

The woman's eyes shone with recognition.

"You're the boy from Poland" Robert nodded. She smiled. "Well, welcome to Munich's public high school then, we do not receive many foreign students who do not have german origins, but I'm glad to meet you. I am Mrs. Higgs, and I take care of all the coordination of the academic area of the school, if you have any doubts do not hesitate to come and consult me."

"Thank you" Robert said sincerely. Mrs. Higgs looked like a very kind person and he was very grateful for it "I was hoping you could give me my schedule, books and my locker number."

Mrs. Higgs nodded, then opened one of her drawers and reached for an envelope with the school logo. She held it out to him and Robert hurried to take it.

"In this is your schedule and the number and combination of your locker. Give me a few seconds, I'll bring your books" The woman went through a door behind her desk while Robert ripped the envelope and consulted his schedule.

At no point did he notice the hunched boy behind him. Mrs. Higgs came out with a stack of books and dropped them on her desk before looking up.

"Thomas? Something happens?"

Robert turned around.

Under the doorway was a rather thin boy, a few inches shorter than Robert. He had dark blonde hair. He wore an old red hoodie that was too big with his sleeves covering his hands, revealing only the tips of his fingers that played with the edges of his worn jeans, and stared at his gray vans slippers.

The boy seemed to take courage before lifting his face.

Robert felt his breath get caught in his throat.

Robert had always liked his eyes. His mother had always told him that they were a very nice color and Milena said they looked like ice. But the boy's eyes were the most beautiful he had ever seen. Robert could not even say exactly what color they were. They were blue and green at the same time; and if Robert was not delirious, he could see a hazel spot on one of them. It was like looking at the sea. 

And maybe Robert should not think things like that about a boy, no matter if the boy has the most beautiful eyes he's ever had the pleasure of watching.

However, there was something in those eyes, beyond the color, but Robert could not put his finger on it.

The boy cringed at Robert's deep stare and hesitated a few seconds before speaking in an almost inaudible whisper.

"I ... I just wanted to change my Arithmetic schedule. "

Mrs. Higgs frowned.

"Arithmetic? Why?" The boy stammered still in whispers.

"I-I'd like to take it…with Mr. Heynckes."

"Is there a problem with Mr. Van Gaal?" Mrs. Higgs asked again.

The boy shook his head vigorously, then lowered his gaze without saying anything else. The woman sighed.

"I'm sorry Thomas, I can’t change class without you giving me a valid reason. Mr. Van Gaal is as good a teacher as Mr. Heynckes, I am sure you will learn much in his class."

The boy nodded softly before murmuring a soft "thank you" and leaving the office.

Mrs. Higgs handed the pile of books to Robert, gave him some instructions on the lunch hour, the inscription on the clubs and then let him go.

Robert was about to turn around and ask about the boy - Thomas, his brain gave him the name Mrs. Higgs used - but kept walking toward the lockers.

 

-  
Robert's first class was History. He is happy because History has always been one of his favorite subjects. In the classroom there were already some students, all of them quite bustling, especially a group of boys in the left corner of the classroom, by the window. They all wore a gray school sports jacket.

The seats are double, so Robert sits in front, by the window.

Soon the room fills up, although nobody sits next to Robert. Some give him a curious look, but no one gives him real attention.

The teacher arrives and the class is silenced immediately, the man introduces himself as Mr. Klopp. It is when he is writing some important dates that the door of the classroom opens with force and a lanky boy with blond hair, who wears the same gray sport jacket that the bustling group of behind, bursts the calm of the classroom looking quite agitated.

"Good morning, Mr. Reus" greets Mr. Klopp without taking his eyes off his notes.

"Good morning" greets the newcomer, looking with his eyes to sit down. His eyes find the empty seat next to Robert and walk toward him. He gives Robert a friendly smile as he sits down. Robert smiles back.

Maybe there is still hope of making good friends

-  
Mr. Klopp's class is the best class Robert has ever heard. His teacher has a special gift to capture the attention of all his students as he recounts the events of the Second World War.

But best of all is that Robert makes a new friend. Marco Reus. The lanky blond who sat next to him.

During a brief break in the class Marco tells him that he is belongs to the school's football team, just like the boisterous boys from behind and that's why they wear the gray sports jacket. They train after school and although last year they lost the national league semifinals, this year they hope to win. Marco also asks where he comes from - although he does not question his reasons - and if he knows how to play football.

"A little," admits Robert, not wishing to mention that the team from his old school won the Polish national league for fear of sounding presumptuous. However, Marco's eyes shine when he learns that he plays as a striker. 

"That is fantastic! You have to do the tests for the team, I'm sure Jogi would be happy to have you"

"I'm not sure I'm that good" says Robert humbly. Marco takes away importance. 

"I still think you should do the tests." 

Mr. Klopp resumes his class while Robert rejects what Marco said. It's a good idea, being on the team means continuing to play football, a passion you have inherited from your father, and having the opportunity to make friends. 

"I suppose I could try," he says to Marco after a few minutes. The blond gives him a bright smile.

 

-

It turns out that Marco has almost the same schedule as him, so they sit together in the following classes. Robert notes that Marco sometimes takes his phone out of his pocket with disguise, reads something on the screen, smiles, and types quickly.

Robert could bet his right arm that Marco is talking to his girlfriend, or someone who is definitely more than a friend.

 

-  
Marco invites him to sit with him at lunchtime. Robert is not sure at first. Marco's table is the table of the football team and Robert is aware of the status quo that football players have. But Marco drags him before he can verbalize any protest and introduces him to his friends who are already seated in front of their own lunches at a large table improvised by other tables.

Everyone is as friendly as Marco and it is impossible for Robert not to feel comfortable. However, Robert can’t recognize among them any of the boisterous boys who were in History class.

Robert is looking around the cafeteria when an old red hoodie catches his eye.

It's Thomas.

He is alone, and walks hunched over the floor, in a clear attempt to be as invisible as possible. And it succeeds.

Robert notes that no one gives him a single glance, perhaps too busy in his own affairs, perhaps intentionally. He can’t be sure.

But there's something about Thomas, something ... weird. Robert can’t use another word because even he does not know what he's talking about. 

Thomas walks over to the bar and asks for something that looks like a sandwich and a small box of juice. 

At the very moment that Robert follows Thomas with his eyes waiting to see where he will sit, Marco introduces him to another group of friends. 

Much to the disappointment of the Pole, when he returns to look for the slender boy, there is not a single trace of Thomas.

 

-

But Robert does not have to wait long to see Thomas again.

Thomas is in his Literature class, sitting in the last seat next to the window. There are several seats free, but Robert walks tried to look safe, and places his bag on the table.

The boy takes a small leap and gives Robert an indecipherable look. 

Robert blames his actions on his curiosity and impulsivity. He should try to sit with someone a little more sociable than Thomas, but he stays there, waiting for some signal to sit down. Thomas stares at him, his beautiful eyes glittering impassively, and Robert is about to sit in another place with his red ears as Thomas purses his lips and pushes his chair to the side.

Robert sits down and wants to say something, but he can’t think of anything. He may hear some students mutter, but they all keep silent when the teacher enters the classroom. 

Literature seems to be interesting judging by the expression of the other students, but Robert is not paying much attention, he takes some notes, but has focused on the movements of Thomas by his side. 

They are soft and careful. His gnarled fingers do not press on the pen and his left arm rests on his lap. From that distance, Robert can also appreciate Thomas' sunken cheeks and tiny freckles on slightly yellowish skin. 

Robert realizes that Thomas is really very thin and that the red hoodie is not huge as he originally thought, on the contrary, Thomas is too often and if he weighed a few pounds more, the hoodie would look great. Robert thinks of the little sandwich and the juice in the box he saw Thomas buy and frowns because if he had only eaten that, he would be starving. 

Thomas does not look at him and if he feels uncomfortable with Robert's constant scrutiny, he does not show it.

 

-

Robert walks behind Thomas. He tries to convince himself that he's not following him, which is the only way out, but a little voice in his head that looks a lot like Milena's tells him he's being a fool.

The steps of the thin boy are short and his movements are so slow down the stairs that when they reach the lockers there are only a few students in the hallways.

Thomas keeps his books in his locker, which is surprisingly in front of Robert, and the Pole imitates.

When Thomas addresses what appear to be baths and not at the exit, Robert can’t deny any longer that he is following him. It's very obvious, and when Thomas turns around to face it, with mistrust painted on his marine orbs, he is not surprised.

"Why are you following me? "

Robert may deny it, but something tells him that Thomas took a lot of courage to say something without stuttering, and feels unable to do so.

Instead he apologizes and expects Thomas to say something more.

But Thomas does not and goes on his way.

Robert just watches him walk away feeling stupid

-

Thomas can’t stand it. His left side is hurting a lot and the stinging of his arm is too strong. His gait is slow and each step is torture. He needs that cream to relieve the pain but there is no way he spends the little money he has left. 

There's this guy. He has no idea who that boy is, but he's making him extremely anxious and uncomfortable. Throughout the class, he has felt his eye scan each of his movements and now the unknown boy is following him. 

Thomas can’t let anyone else cause him anguish, he has more than enough Mario Gomez, that's why he takes the road to the restrooms and hopes that the boy does not follow. 

But the boy follows and Thomas has to turn around and ask. He wants to ask many things, like why he sat next to him, or why he does not stop looking at him and ignores him like everyone else. 

However, Thomas can’t with his own silence and asks the simplest question, thankful not to stutter, even though it was almost a whisper. The boy just apologizes and says nothing more. Thomas waits a few seconds, and only when he is sure to say nothing does he continue on his way to the baths.

 

-

Thomas whistles as he raises his hoodie because that simple movement is too much for him. The bruise looks horrible, much worse than in the morning. Some areas have taken on a disgusting red color and if Thomas did not know the pain in his body as well as he does, he might think he has a broken rib. 

There are old bruises on his hips and his stomach that still do not heal, but nothing to worry about. 

He does not dare remove the bandage from his arm for fear that someone enters the baths and because he is not sure he wants to see blood at that time. He has to be especially careful with his wounds because they take too long to heal and if he does not take care of them properly, he runs the risk of infection. 

His body is not in a position to make a forced move and yet Thomas can’t miss the job. He had a hard time persuading coach Low to let him work at the Munich-Riem hippodrome. Coach Low had a huge horse racing hobby and had recently acquired Dave, a gorgeous, untamed pureblood who only allowed Thomas to clean his stable and take a long walk across the breadth of the racecourse. 

It was a little heavy work, but Thomas has grown fond of Dave and enjoys spending his time in the afternoons with him. In addition, Coach Low gives him a weekly pay and Thomas is more than happy because he is still underage and nowhere else will he get a job. The pay is not excessive, but it reaches to pay the food.

-

Dave looks impatient as he opens the stable door. Thomas smiles and strokes his snout before sliding his hand over his long neck despite the painful pull in his ribs. 

Dave licks his cheek before approaching the saddle placed on one of the stable fences. It is not the first time that Dave wants Thomas to mount it, but Thomas can’t do it. 

He has not ridden a horse in almost seven years and although he has not forgotten how to do it, his heart will shrink by just looking at the saddle. 

"I can’t, Dave," he whispers in a broken voice and the horse snorts. "Let's just go for a walk." 

He and Dave wander the dirt tracks and the smell of humidity is nostalgic. Thomas can’t lie to himself, he can’t hide that he once dreamed of being a rider and winning the arc of triumph, the highest European competition, as a child. Things are different now, the maximum achievement he can get is to graduate and stay alive.

They take a long walk and Thomas ignores the pain in his body. He allows Dave to gallop a bit before returning to the stables, feeding him and saying goodbye with a caress on the snout.

 

-

It's almost seven o'clock when Thomas gets to his street. A dark and silent street with houses far enough apart to avoid unwanted ears and eyes. 

Thomas enters his house on tiptoe. He can never be sure if his father will be home and that is why he never knows what awaits him when he crosses the door. Yesterday it was only a push and a strong kick in the ribs, considerably smaller compared to other times when blood has flowed freely from his body to the floor. 

His father is an unpredictable man, but today Thomas does not have the strength to resist whatever he wants to do to him. He's had a terrible day, Mario Gomez and the new guy have kept him on the verge of a nervous breakdown, and the nostalgia that comes with the saddle is too much for him. 

The house is dark, which really means nothing, if Thomas remembers the times when he thought he was safe and got a good blow. The street light leaks slightly through the back yard and Thomas swallows when he sees his father's figure in his reclining chair and a bottle of beer in his hand. There are empty bottles on the floor next to the chair and a little white packet that Thomas knows well. 

He evaluates the possibility of running to the stairs and the possible consequences that will bring him later, when his father gets up and walks towards him. Immediately Thomas's heart stops, and his body freezes. He does not feel his feet and there is no escape. The man stinks of alcohol and gasoline, the characteristic smell of cocaine. His eyes have a dangerous glow and Thomas feels that his knees will bend at any moment. 

Gerhard Müller takes a last drink of his beer before placing it on the table without any care. 

"Where were you, monster?" 

The voice is rough and Thomas can feel the beads of sweat behind his neck. His lips tremble and he is unable to formulate an answer.  
He has to answer, because his father hates that he does not answer, but he can’t, the fear is very great and the tears begin to fill his eyes.

The man frowns and before Thomas can react, he runs a hand behind his head and pulls his curly hair tightly, pulling out a moan of pain. 

"I said, where were you?" 

Thomas closes his eyes avoiding crying because his father hates seeing his horrible tears as much as he hates to be silent. 

"Tell me, stupid!" 

The man's open hand hits his cheek with hardness and Thomas can feel the taste of his own blood in his mouth.

He wants to move his lips and give an audible answer but the man slaps him again before he can even try.

"You do not seem to learn yet, do you, monster? I gave you an order!"

Gerhard Müller drags Thomas to the center of the room by the hair and throws it to the floor. Thomas's forehead hits the ground and instantly embraces his knees, terrified of a blow that could fracture his already injured ribs.

But panic runs every inch of his body when he sees his father take off his belt.

The man rolls one end of the belt in his hand and orders him to remove the hoodie.

"No, please ..." he exhales, his voice shaking because he has been spanked for months and his wounds have taken months to heal.  
Thomas's father grunts, picks him up again, and hits his head on the floor.

"Do it now, you piece of shit!"

Thomas sobs and takes off his hoodie and T-shirt and puts it on his hands and knees on cold floor.

The ruthless sound of the belt cutting the air anticipates the pain of the leather whipping its back.

Thomas screams and his body gives way. He bites his arm to quell his sobs, tears streaming down his bony cheekbones.

The second knock opens the skin and Thomas hisses at the pain. There is no pity in any of the foul blows. The leather of the belt opens the old scars and is stained with blood, but the man does not stop.

"You're a monster, a scum."

The spanking covers Thomas' back from shoulder to waist and blood starts to slide to the ground.

"A bloody bastard."

Thomas cries as his body is torn apart with every whip. The bruise hurts more than ever, pressed against the hardness of the floor, but the pain in his back is like hell itself. The bandage on his arm is stained with blood and the blood also slides from his forehead down his cheeks, mingling with his tears. 

"I wish you had died." 

His father continues to lash him for tortuous minutes. The last blow is the worst of all because it falls on his living flesh and Thomas gives a shriek.

Thomas could not breathe easily, every part of him felt absolutely shattered. He could not move and the pain would be etched in his skin forever. Thomas's father tosses the stained belt next to him and takes his beer bottle back from the table, before stooping. 

"Now, tell me, where were you?"

Thomas closes his eyes and whispers in pain. 

"Work"

"The next time you disobey me, you'll be much worse. Clean your disgusting blood from my belt and my floor, and it disappears from my sight, fucking monster" 

Thomas sees his father return to his reclining chair in the yard and tries to stand up, every movement is a whiplash of pain and he has to crawl to the couch for support. His legs are slow to respond and his knees tremble at every step. 

Take the mop and a cleaning cloth from the room under the stairs and clean the blood without really looking at it. Leave the belt on the couch and return the cleaning items to their place. 

The steps are a real obstacle and he needs to hold onto the stair rail to climb. He reaches the second floor without breath and can feel the blood spurt from his wounds. He does not lean on the walls for fear of leaving traces of his own blood. 

He is barely able to support himself, but he manages to get to his room. He collapses on his bed, and his eyes close, bringing him into unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please do not hate me, I love Thomas but this is necessary for the story and Robert is soon going to have a very important role.  
> I also want to remember that I put a warning about violence in this story so hopefully you can understand it.  
> I'm not sure what day I'll update the next chapter but it might be Monday.  
> Once again many thanks for following the story. I will be waiting for your opinions and theories: D.  
> Thanks and greetings to all!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I can finally upload this chapter. I have had headaches because I have rewritten this twice but now I am satisfied with the result. Robert and Thomas were supposed to have a real interaction in this chapter but I have decided to move it to the next chapter so this chapter is a little shorter than I had planned.  
> Una vez más les agradezco sus comentarios y kudos, son muy importantes para mí y me motivan a seguir trabajando en esta historia.  
> Como siempre, me disculpo por algún error.   
> Hay algunas cosas interesantes en este capítulo, así que, disfruten!

  
When Thomas opened his eyes, he knew immediately that his day was going to be a real hell. His back seemed to be on fire and there was not a single muscle in his body that was not sore. The bruise on his ribs was completely numb with pain and he could taste the blood in his mouth. He could not move, his throat felt dry and every breath felt like a new knock on his back.

Thomas could also feel the blood spurt from his wounds and fall on the already stained sheets of his bed. Yesterday he had been too exhausted to take a bath and clean himself, but now he just wanted to get to the bathroom and take off all the blood that covered his body.

He tried to get up using the strength of his arms, but they gave in and Thomas groaned in frustration. She had to get up, get the blood out, and start over.

Thomas tried again with all his energy and managed to stand up leaning on the head of his bed. The pain that went through him was unbearable and he had to bite his lip to keep from screaming. Her breathing became erratic and her legs trembled, unable to stabilize.

His body could not hold, but Thomas would not give up. From a few and with the help of each piece of furniture in his room he was able to reach the door and cross the hallway to the bathroom. He locked the door, even though he knew his father never stayed home after hitting him, and looked at himself in the mirror.

Thomas knew he would not look good. He never looked good. His hair was always tangled and his body was so thin that he could easily count his ribs. His cheeks were sunken, his canine teeth were fangs, his skin had spots and his nose was large. But Thomas knew he was ugly and that no one would ever find him attractive. He could live with it in the same way he had done all those years, ignoring everyone who made fun of him.

However, Thomas could not recognize himself in the mirror.

He looked bad.

He looked broken.

There was a large bruise on his forehead and a bleeding wound on his right eyebrow. The blood had dried on his cheeks beside his tears, and his lower lip had burst from the force of the blow. There was also dried blood on his neck and chest, the bruise on his ribs had acquired a nauseating blue-green color, and the bandage on his arm was stained with blood.

Thomas rolled over and his whole body shook as he saw his back completely bathed in blood. The lashes had not stopped bleeding and the skin was torn.

Thomas felt the bile rise up his esophagus and he had to bend over to vomit. The greenish liquid and blood burned in his dry throat before falling to the sink and the arcades did not stop until there was nothing left in his body.

He looked at himself again in the mirror and his eyes grew wet when he saw his face once more.

It hurts, a lot. But what hurt him most were the four fingers of his father printed in red on his right cheek. It is a reminder of his punishment.

His trembling fingers traced the cruel mark inflicted without any qualms. A silent tear fell on the same wounded cheek, so Thomas couldn’t contain himself any longer.

He cried. He cried with all the strength his suffering could bring. He cried without biting his hurt lips as he always did so that no one would listen. He cried until his body lost its balance and fell to the floor. He cried, screaming, smashing his throat. He cried hitting the tiles without caring about his knuckles. He cried, pulling at his hair, unable to take all the pain out of his soul.

Even if he has no right to cry, he cried for an entire hour until the last tear had dried. Because he deserves every stroke, every wound, every scourge.

He deserves the pain and the hate, because he is a _monster_.

 

  

 

-

Showering is even worse than getting up and walking. The icy water falls on his injured skin and the wounds burn with a few groans of pain. He has to disinfect his wounds, but he doesn’t dare to put soap on them and only lets the water remove the dried blood from his body.

The cold water also stops the bleeding and Thomas dries his back with the utmost care, although that doesn’t stop him from hissing whenever the rough material rubs the deepest lashes.

Thomas doesn’t have any wound cream and the last bandage he has left is to take care of the cut on his arm. The cut on his arm is not infected, but the blood clotted on the wound does not seem to want to heal soon and Thomas grimaces because it is very normal for him.

His wounds take a long time to heal and the healing is slow and delicate. Any sudden movement can break the new tissue and then the wound will bleed again. That cut was not very deep, but it had already been unhealed for a month.

No way he can go to the hospital. No matter how bad the blows he has received, he has never dared to go to a hospital and today will not be the day he goes.

Thomas sells his arm carefully and looks in the mirror for the last time before returning to his room. There is no longer blood on his face and his back no longer looks like an image coming out of a gore film. Even the wound on his eyebrow and the bruise on his forehead look better. People might think he was hit somewhere because he was very clumsy and stupid, but the red fingers etched on his cheek would deny in a twinkling of an eye that theory.

There was no way anyone would not realize that he had been beaten. It is so painfully obvious that Thomas shudders to think what would happen if someone found out that his father is constantly beating him. He is not sure of the reaction among his classmates, but he is sure that his teachers would not let him pass.

It is not the first time he has to go to school with a blow on his face, the only part of his body that clothes can’t cover. But almost never are marks that can reveal any sign of violence, except that time his father punched him and he got a black eye.

Thomas had to miss school for two and a half weeks until the bruise had subsided. His professors had questioned his prolonged insistence and Thomas had to invent a story in which he had somehow been hit with a piece of furniture in his eye and could not see. It was a poor excuse, but they had not questioned him anymore.

This time Thomas was not sure of the same fate.

 

 

 

-

  
Although it is a little late to go to school when Thomas finishes dressing, he is determined not to miss. It's not like he really wants to go, his back still feels too sore and he stifles a groan every time his shirt makes contact with his injured skin. But this year he has proposed not to accumulate the enormous amount of absences he had last year. He does not want to make more visits to the school counselor and continue to invent fake diseases. He is not good at lying and does not know how much he can sustain his story without being ridiculous.

Missing school also involves catching up and borrowing class notes from someone. That someone is usually Manuel Neuer, the goalkeeper of the soccer team, and the only person in the school who has never mocked him.

Thomas likes Manuel. Manuel is not arrogant and is always very friendly to everyone. Last year he had to ask Manuel for his notes on several occasions, and although the goalkeeper has never refused to help him, Thomas does not want to bother him.

In addition, he has to go to the stables and walk to Dave or he will become very anxious.

Thomas picks up his backpack, puts it on his shoulder and puts up with the pain. There is a long walk that he has to do until school. First, he needs to go to the pharmacy and buy a concealer to help him hide the blow on his cheek. He does not have the money to buy some healing cream and that concealer will cost him his lunch of the whole week. Afterwards, he must go through the public restrooms and apply the concealer. Finally, when there is no mark on his face that can betray his situation, he will be able to go to school.

The day augurs a lot of pain and many uncomfortable looks.

 

 

 

-

Robert has had all night to think about his disastrous encounter with Thomas and he concludes, at three in the morning, after giving many rounds to the subject, that has been a stupid. It is not a very brilliant conclusion, but it is all that his brain has been able to reason before surrendering to the arms of Morpheus.

He also concluded that today he will not try to approach Thomas. It is very obvious that the boy has no interest in him and Robert is not going to force another encounter that could make Thomas uncomfortable again.

Maybe Thomas is just a lone boy and Robert has no right to invade his privacy and much less follow him. Robert is not a fucking stalker.

Robert just felt curious because he has to admit that Thomas has caught his eye in a way that no one else has done it before.

But what happened yesterday is enough for Robert to realize that he is being irrational, and that no matter how much Thomas has gotten embedded in his thoughts, he has to let it pass. It does not matter that Thomas has beautiful eyes.

Robert shudders because he has been avoiding that dangerous line of thought during all his nocturnal reasoning. Somehow Thomas's eyes return to his mind and Robert just wants to sink into that sea-look and let himself drift.

Once again, Robert remembers that Thomas is a boy and not a cute girl, so he can’t use the argument that he has had a crush to justify all the hours he has spent thinking about him. Robert has definitely not had a crush. Nope. Robert is a man and he's just a little bit dazzled by those eyes. That is all. There is nothing strange about Thomas. He's just a lonely boy with beautiful eyes.

Robert decides he needs to change the direction of his thoughts so he thinks about football. There is a reason why he studied German in the first place, and it is because he always dreamed of coming to Germany and playing football professionally. He has a little fascination with Bayern Munich and it is no secret to his family or friends in Poland that he hopes to be part of the squad someday.

He knows that it is not something simple and that there are many others like him, with the same dream, much more talented and with better economic resources to achieve their goals. Robert is realistic and knows that his mother can’t afford the youth academy of Bayern Munich, and that the only way he can be part of the club´s youth team is to get their attention.

Robert also knows that in football nothing is safe and for that very reason he can’t focus solely on football. He also needs to have good grades and apply to a university. He needs a future. But being a footballer is his dream and his father's, and Robert is going to fight to get it.

Being part of the school team was a great opportunity, and if they won the national school league, Robert was sure that Bayern Munich would be interested in him.

Marco looked very excited to know that he was a striker, which makes him assume that perhaps his current striker is not so good. In addition, they lost in the semifinals. Robert could definitely make a difference.

With that thought and banishing Thomas from his mind, Robert prepares for a new day at school.

 

 

 

-

Robert has to admit that his first encounter with Mario Gomez and Jerome Boateng is not the most pleasant, but it is by no means his fault.

He met Marco at lunchtime and Robert finally got to meet the bustling group that had been in his History class. They made a pompous entrance to the cafeteria and greeted almost everyone before sitting down at the team table.

Interestingly, Marco made no introduction and even acted as if they were not there. Marco's friends Mats and Erick also did the same.

It was a tall, dark boy who began to annoy Mats who finally noticed his presence. The boy frowned and in a deep voice asked, who was he.

"I'm Robert"

Robert reached out his hand to be polite, though the boy's voice was not. The boy did not take his hand and simply gave a significant look to one of the boys sitting next to him. Robert immediately dropped his hand.

The boy looked bored and annoyed, and Robert thought he looked a lot like a little boy who had been banned from playing with his favorite toy. The boy studied Robert for a few seconds before taking a sip of his apple juice without saying anything. Robert had to bite his tongue because the boy's gesture was very contemptuous. In a silent message, he was telling him that Robert didn’t care in the slightest

Marco cleared his throat before speaking and breaking the tense silence that had formed on the table.

"Robert is new at school and will be presented this Friday to the team's tests. He is a striker"

The dark boy snorted as if he couldn’t believe that Robert is a striker and Robert wanted to get up and punch him, but Marco put a hand on his knee as if he could read his thoughts.

The dark boy didn’t pay any attention again and the bored-faced boy did not. The table was noisy again, and Marco took advantage of it to lean and speak in a low voice.

"It's best if you do not get in trouble with Boateng, the brunette, or Kruse, who's sitting across the table. They can be very annoying when they want to be. Bastian and Lukas, those who sit in front of Kruse, are only troublemakers. And don’t worry too much about Mario Gomez, who looks bored, he never pays attention to anyone, but if you get him to look at you for something negative, I assure you that you will have a difficult year. He is our center forward and he is very good, so everyone in the school idolizes him. Last year we lost in the semi-finals because he had a knee injury and Kruse is not as good as him. So, I recommend that you be careful."

 

 

 

-

Robert had succeeded in getting Thomas out of his mind until the last hour of class when he inevitably found him sitting in the same place as yesterday in Biology.

He hesitated and his brain began to work a thousand an hour. He had decided to walk away and not press any encounter with the boy. But this was absolutely spontaneous. Maybe something about fate, and if Robert had to be honest, he wanted to sit down with Thomas. He really wanted to talk to him and meet him.

Robert turned his attention to Thomas and noticed, with surprise, that he looked different than yesterday, although he was wearing the same red hood. Thomas had a wound in his eyebrow and a bruise on his forehead that did not look good at all. His lower lip was also wounded and had a purple color that only highlighted the fragility and fatigue in Thomas's expression.

"What are you doing standing at the door like a statue?"

Mats's voice pulled Robert out of his inner conflict. The Pole gave a small leap and Mats laughed at him.

"Come, sit with me."

Mats dragged Robert by the arm to the back of the room, across from Thomas's seat. Mats took the seat next to the wall and let Robert sit next to the other seats, his eyes free for Thomas.

Robert tried to pay attention to Mats saying some monosyllables when he thought it was necessary, but out of the corner of his eye, he was aware of Thomas's movements.

This one had closed his eyes and bit his lower lip, which was already quite hurt. His back was stiff, not resting on the back of the chair and from that position, Robert could also see his fists clenched tightly.

Girls sitting in front of them began to whisper and Robert took his eyes off Thomas to focus on the newcomer.

It was Mario Gomez, tall and imposing, even with his boring expression unperturbed.

The girls in the classroom adjusted their hair and the boys raised their hands in an attempt to be recognized and greet the newcomer. But Mario Gomez ignored them all, while his gaze studied the room. He paused for a moment to nod to Mats who responded with the same gesture and ignored Robert completely, as did everyone else.

Finally, Mario Gómez focused on Thomas and his expression _changed_.

The interest was painted all over his face and the corners of his lips rose in a strange smile.

Sure enough, Mario Gomez advanced to Thomas's seat and dropped to his side. Then he rested his elbow on the table and covered his mouth with his hand. The whispers changed for small laughter and Mats nudged his ribs softly as the teacher entered the classroom

 

 

 

-

Robert could not take his attention away from Thomas and Mario Gomez. There was nothing strange about them. Both took notes, listened to the class and their expressions were absolutely neutral.

It was almost imperceptible, but Robert had seen it. That spark of attention that Mario Gómez seemed to express to no one. No one except Thomas.

The Pole took advantage of a break in class to talk to Mats.

"Who is he? " He asked, nodding at Thomas and trying to sound disinterested. Mats followed his gaze and frowned.

"That's Thomas Müller. I don’t know him"

"Mario Gomez seems to know it" Robert said casually.

Mats's frown deepened.

"I do not think so. I've never seen them talk. Müller is not very popular around here and I do not think Mario will pay attention to someone miserable like him. "

"Someone miserable like him?" Robert could no longer hide his interest.

However, Mats blushed and settled into his chair, visibly uncomfortable, as if he had said something he should not.

"Well, he ... _he killed his brother_. "

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will wait for your comments, thank you and greetings to all!  
> Bye!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! It has been a while since I updated the story. I thought I would have many more free time but Christmas is close so it has been almost impossible to sit down and write.  
> This is my Christmas present for all of you. : D  
> Thank you very much for your kudos and comments.  
> As always, I apologize for some mistake :(  
> Enjoy!

  
The rest of the week passed like a blur to Robert and in a blink, it was already Friday afternoon, and he was getting ready for the tests of the football team. The dressing rooms were crammed with excited boys, eager to prove themselves to the whole school.

Robert could hear the screams of the students, the chants of the cheerleaders, mingling with the bustle of the locker room. Marco was at his side securing his shin guards with his uniform on.

The team jersey was white with red and yellow lines on the shoulders and the shorts were black. On the left side of the chest was the shield of the school and on the other side, the number.

Marco's back was number eleven and Mats's number five. Robert's shirt had no back number and was completely white.

On the other side of the dressing room, Mario Gomez also wears his jersey. He is surrounded by his friends and his expression is as disinterested as ever.

But Robert knows that's not true. And that there is someone capable of having his attention. What Robert can’t determine, is what kind of attention he seems to address only to Thomas Müller.

"The training starts in five minutes" announces Philipp Lahm, the team captain. "Please go to the tunnel. Team members stand in a row on the right side, and those who will take the tests, on the left side"

Robert inspires and follows the instructions. Marco is placed next to him, in the other row and gives him a thumb up.

"Luck"

 

 

-

The screams are even louder outside. The school's stadium is packed and Robert's nerves leave his body. This is where he belongs. He can never feel as comfortable and secure as when his cleats tread the lawn. A smile makes its way to his face as his nose traps the smell of damp earth.

The coach urges them to make a half circle, being careful to separate the members and the aspirants. Lahm and a tall boy wearing a goalkeeper kit, which Robert doesn’t remember, flank him.

"Good afternoon everybody. I'm coach Low. I welcome you and thank you for your assistance in these selection tests. From now on I want you to know that the three things that I value most are hard work, honesty and companionship. A team is not a team if they are not able to communicate properly, that is why, at this very moment, and every time you step on the lawn, you will forget any pending issues that may have between you. It’s also necessary to inform you that every fault you commit will be duly sanctioned. Naturally, the penalty will be according to the fault. If it’s a serious offense, then you will be expelled from the team and will not be taken into account in next year's tests. Today I will only evaluate your performance and the list of applicants who will be accepted, will be posted on the bulletin board after lunch on Monday. Those that are accepted must be presented starting on Wednesday for their first training session, after school. I wish you the best of luck"

Robert joined Marco and Mats for warm-up. Members of the technical team scattered across the lawn with a notepad in hand. One of them also told them what exercises to do and then they all started to spin around the edge of the field.

After half an hour of intense heating they were ordered to make equipment. Mats and Marco included him in his, and only then did Robert discover that Mats played as central defender and Marco as winger.

His team also joined several candidates and finally the small football matches began.

Robert did a great performance. He scored a double and Marco did not hesitate to hit him in the head before hugging him.

"You said you were not that good! " The blonde demands.

"That was brilliant" Mats said, patting her on the back.

But without a doubt, the best of all, was the low assent given to him by coach Low as he passed by. Robert sat on the bench with an indelible smile on his face.

However, he had to swallow his happiness when Mario Gómez scored his second goal in less than five minutes.

He was good. He was very very good. The best player Robert had seen in school leagues. And then he understood why the deafening screams in the stands silenced his own thoughts. Mario Gómez shouted each of his five goals to the fan and this one responded with the same intensity. The forward lifted his hand extended to the bench where were the rest of the team players and the aspirants, all with resignation painted on the face. With the same hand, he greeted coach Low, who patted him on the shoulder.

Mario Gomez didn’t sit on the bench, went directly to the tunnel and disappeared through it without saying anything to anyone. He had already said it all on the field and Coach Low's satisfied smile was more than enough proof of it. Robert didn’t hear much of the farewell address of the coach. In his head were still the three goals difference between him and Mario Gomez.

 

 

-  
The locker room was silent when the tests were over. People had started to leave the stadium as soon as Mario Gómez left the field. The forward wasn’t there and yet his presence felt in every corner of the room.

Marco said good-bye to Robert. The blonde was fully dressed when Robert came out of the showers and came out of the changing rooms almost running.

Mats wasn’t surprised and Robert chose not to touch the subject. The defender asked if he wanted to play FIFA at home with some other guys, and although Robert was grateful to be included, he opted to decline the offer.

His head repeated the goals of Mario Gomez and compared them with his. Robert wasn’t a fool. He knew there were people who were better than him, but this was the first time the distance between him and someone else was so noticeable, so painfully obvious.

Robert couldn’t blame Mario Gomez for being so arrogant on the field. The boy had the talent to do whatever he wanted, even if that was rubbing in the face to all who wanted to reach his place as the team's forward center. His place as the undisputed star of the whole school.

Robert wouldn’t be surprised to hear that Mario Gomez already had offers from various clubs. All it took was watching him play to know that the boy would be a professional soccer star someday.

The Pole passed his hands over his face and sighed. He needed improvement. If he wanted Bayern Munich to give him a chance, he needed to be even better. He had done a good job today, but it was not enough. This team was very good, they had a lot of talent. Marco and Mats had played very well, as did many of the contenders. What were his chances now of being part of the team?

Robert had not missed the fact that the other two strikers, Podolski and Kruse, didn’t have much to envy to Mario Gómez. They definitely didn’t have Gómez's natural talent, but the triplet and doublet they had scored respectively were more than enough to prove they deserved to be on the team.

With three strikers at that level, Robert had to ask himself again, what were his chances now of being part of the team?

 

 

-

Robert was the last to leave the locker room. The corridors were empty and the orange glow of the dusk sun was reflected in the white floor tiles. The main hallway was blocked by a wet floor warning.

Throwing a curse into the air, Robert turned and took the path to the library. He was about to turn the corridor when he heard the muffled sound of a back colliding with the wall. Without knowing very well what could be, Robert remained hidden and pulled half of the head by the wall.

His eyes widened at the sight of Thomas cornered against the wall and Mario Gomez holding him by the collar of his hoodie.

Robert could not hear whatever Mario Gomez was telling him from that position, but he could see Thomas's open eyes shining with fear and his lips curved in a wince. His feet barely touched the ground and one of his hands covered the hands of Mario Gomez and with the other hand tried to push it out, without success.

Robert didn’t know what to do. His instinct told him that he had to stop this situation, but he can remember Marco warning him not to seek trouble with Gomez or any of his friends, and Robert had witnessed the devotion that everyone professed to the striker. Helping Thomas could cost him dearly.

On the other hand, Mats's words were burned in his head. Thomas had killed his brother, and though Mats had told him that Thomas had admitted his guilt, Robert couldn’t believe him. However, Thomas did not have a good reputation in school for reasons already known, and Robert was not sure of wanting to commit social suicide.

He had only two choices. He could turn around, walk on the wet floor and act as if he had not seen anything, or intervene. But in no way would he be watching behind that wall.

His feet receded and Robert knew he was going to regret the moment he turned around, ready to take another path. He took three steps and could not give one more, when he heard a deep groan of pain.

His body moved alone and crossed the hall to where Mario Gomez had Thomas by the hair with one hand, and he sobbed with his eyes closed.

Thomas looked even more fragile than ever.

The wound in his eyebrow seemed not to have healed in the slightest and the bruise on his forehead was now an ugly green. There were scabs on his purple lips and Robert had not noticed before, but his bony knuckles were also hurt.

A strange anger rose in Robert's throat and left a bad taste in his mouth. How could Gomez take advantage of someone in such conditions? Was he so indifferent that he could not notice that the boy needed medical attention? Was he responsible for Thomas being so hurt? Did people know and did nothing?

It did not matter what Thomas's past was. No one knew his reasons, no one knew what had happened exactly, nobody had the right to judge him, much less harass him. What if it was just a huge misunderstanding? What if Thomas only felt guilty? Why could not Thomas enjoy the benefit of the doubt?

Each question bittered Robert even more, and before he could think about what he was doing, he had caught Gomez by the collar of his jacket and had ripped it away from Thomas.

"What do you think you're doing?" His voice had sounded even harder than he'd intended, but he had achieved his goal.

Mario Gomez looked absolutely surprised as if he could not believe that someone had dared to cross his path.

 _Bastard_. Robert thought with complete displeasure. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Thomas fall to his knees and hold his shoulder, breathing fast, his face furrowed with deep pain.

Robert frowned. What had the unfortunate Gomez done to him?

Mario Gomez recovered from surprise in seconds and his face returned to his mask of disinterest.

"What do you think you do?" He asked back, disconcerting Robert.

"What? Do not you know, damn it? This is bullying! "

The forward stepped up to Thomas and did not flinch when Robert took a stand. On the contrary, he stroked the boy's curls almost tenderly.

"I was bullying you, Thomas? Have I hurt you? "

Thomas's response froze Robert's body.

The boy still trembled and the pain did not leave his face, but between sobs and inaudible stutters, he managed to answer him.

"Do not"

The Pole was slow to find his voice.

"Leave him alone!"

Impulsively, Robert pushed Mario Gomez, forcing him to let go of Thomas's hair.

The forward frowned and in a blink, took Robert by the lapels and pushed him against the opposite wall with force. The pain exploded in Robert's back and he had to bite his lower lip to keep a groan of pain from escaping from his mouth. But Mario Gómez was not finished. He tightened the grip on his neck, strangled it and pushed it twice more without giving him any choice to defend himself.

"I'll tell you once, stupid," said Gomez, without losing his annoying impassivity, "you'd better stay out of it. The fagot of Reus must have told you. You don’t want to mess with me. You know who I am and I know who you are. Don’t think that because you made a decent presentation today you can compare yourself with me. This is my school and that is my team. It was I who took that team from last place on the table and it was me who took them to the semifinals after ten years of being the laughing stock in the league. You, on the other hand, are only a novice. You'd better learn your place and take care of your own business. Maybe you should practice some free shots, that way you would not look so rigid when you have a ball in front of you"

Gomez let go of him, before moving on down the aisle, and Robert slid down the wall, coughing hard. His oxygen supply had been cut abruptly and his lungs ached with each breath. After a couple of minutes trying to recover the air he realized that Thomas was no longer on the ground.

Robert scrambled to his feet and turned the library aisle. Thomas had not gone very far. He was leaning against the wall trying to walk and his back was shaking violently.

He seemed to be carrying a heavy burden on his shoulders and his weakness was so obvious that the bitter taste returned to Robert's mouth.

Trying not to frighten him, Robert approached him, making sure to make a noise as he walked and gently placed a hand on his back in order to reassure him. But Thomas shrank and jumped away from the contact, tripping over his own feet. Robert hastened to steady him, holding him by the shoulders.

Thomas hissed and his eyes filled with tears again.

"You're ok? " Asked Robert sincerely concerned. Thomas shrank again and sobbed, trying to free himself from his grip and Robert was about to panic for not being able to help, when he realized that it was his own grip that was hurting him.

Immediately he let go of his shoulders as if they were burning embers. Thomas did not hold his own weight and fell to the ground. Robert had the urge to hold him back, but he decided to let himself fall and only take his hands.

"Please tell me what's going on. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what's happening," the Pole said desperately. "Do you need to go to the infirmary? Do you want me to take you? "

Terror covered Thomas's features and shook his head vigorously with his eyes closed. He bit her lips, ripping off some of him scabs in the process, and took a deep breath trying to calm down. His sobs stopped, but the tremor in his body didn’t.

Robert was at a real crossroads. The boy didn’t look well. Something was causing him so much suffering and he couldn’t guess what it was. He needed medical attention soon, and Robert really wanted to carry him and get him to the infirmary as soon as possible. But the mere mention of the place had been enough for Robert to stop. Thomas did not want to go, and as much as Robert wanted to take him, he couldn’t go against his will.

If it had been his sister or his mother, Robert would not have hesitated to immerse them in a big hug. But this was Thomas, a boy he barely knew. He didn’t know what to do to comfort him.

Dubiously, Robert was guided by his instinct. With his left hand, he stroked the German's knuckles and with his other hand, wiped the tears from his cheeks gently.

His soft touch had an effect. The tremor slowly subsided and Thomas rewarded him by opening his watery eyes, allowing him to sink into them.

There was a great combination of emotions in them, from fear to sadness and from uncertainty to pain.

Robert wondered if it was possible that other eyes could express the same as that beautiful look.

"How do you feel?" He asked in an attempt to bring himself back to reality.

"I ... better," Thomas whispered in a broken voice.

"You can get up?"

The thin boy nodded and with Robert's help stabilized himself on his own feet.

They stared in uncomfortable silence for a few seconds until Thomas lowered his eyes to the floor and began to play with the frayed seams of the sleeves of his hoodie.

"You shouldn’t ... you shouldn’t have helped me."

"I could not stay and observe without doing anything."

"Still ... you do not have to. I can ... take care of myself." Robert snorted. His finger touched the bruise on his forehead softly, and Thomas gasped.

"This says the opposite."

Thomas moved away from his touch and frowned.

"You do not understand. You're going to get yourself into a lot of trouble."

"I think I got into a lot of trouble already. They told me to stay away from Mario Gomez if I wanted to have a quiet year. Obviously, I did not follow the instructions."

"I’m sorry” That took Robert by surprise.

"Why do you apologize?"

Thomas's anguish was as palpable as a block of concrete. He stammered back, just like the sobs.

" I ... I came to the school to ask for the notes ... I should not have missed ... but I really could not come ... and there was nobody ... and Mario was annoying ... it's ... it's my fault ... you ... him ... me ... I should not…"

Robert gripped his hands tightly, feeling terribly wrong for his accusing tone when he actually wanted to make a joke. _Stupid, stupid_. He rebuked himself.

"Take it easy. It's not your fault."

But Thomas was not listening.

"I ... it's always... it's my fault... if I... if I were not so weak... then... you... it's my fault... I'm ..."

"Enough! I told you it's not your fault, I wanted to help you, nothing is your fault"  

Thomas denied as more tears fell from his eyes.

"But ... you ... you're going to have problems ... he ..."

"That does not matter, Thomas. He can go to hell" Robert replied, sounding more confident than he felt.

Thomas looked at him in surprise before returning to his expression of sadness and guilt.

"I do not want you to be hurt."

Robert's heart fluttered and the Pole decided it was time to change the subject or he could say something very stupid.

"Are you sure you do not want to go to the infirmary? You do not look well."  

"I'm fine."  

The Pole sighed.

"I suppose you will not tell anyone what happened?"

Thomas denied it.

Robert already knew. Mario Gomez had made clear the enormous control he had over the boy, and though the indignation ran through him, he could understand.

"At least let me walk you home."

But Thomas refused again, exasperating Robert.

"I'll be fine."

Thomas tugged at his hands and only then did Robert realize that he had held them all that time. It was impossible not to blush.

The smallest one bent down to pick up his rucksack from the floor and made a face as he hung it over his shoulder.

"I ... I'm grateful you helped me. You're the first to do it, and I really appreciate it, but please, do not do it again. I do not want to trouble anyone. You better stay away from me."

The German turned around, ready to leave, but paused for a few seconds before turning back to look at him with bright eyes full of warmth and the corners of his lips almost imperceptibly raised.

"And I do not think you're rigid. In fact, I believe ... I think you're very good."

 

 

-

Even if many things had happened that day, Robert went to sleep with Thomas's beautiful little smile behind his eyelids.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I wish you all a Merry Christmas!  
> Please tell me what you thought of the chapter. I'll wait for your comments;)

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it!


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